


Piracy on the dance floor

by Hypatia_66



Series: Early days [13]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Tuxedos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 19:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15669969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: cheese, crimson.Napoleon saves Illya from his first encounter with Angelique and misses a trick





	Piracy on the dance floor

 

This was to be their first formal event together. Napoleon looked his partner up and down. He was wearing the required tux, but he looked a mess. His dress shirt had frills – not very well-pressed ones – and he wore no vest, so it hung a little loosely over his waistband, and his bow tie was too narrow and looked absurd.

“Where did you find that tux and shirt, Illya?” he enquired.

“In the UNCLE store. Why? They fit, don’t they?”

“They fit where they touch, I guess. Why aren’t you wearing a vest?”

“A _vest_? Oh, you mean waistcoat.” Illya’s terminology around clothing remained British and he was often confused. “I thought it would be too hot, so I didn’t bother.”

“You could have asked for a cummerbund,” said Napoleon, poking at Illya’s waistband.

“I expect I could have if I knew what that was.”

“Didn’t you ever wear a tux in London?”

“No.”

“Ah. Well, a cummerbund is a kind of sash worn around the waist. Keeps things in, including a fat stomach if you have one.”

Illya’s slim figure scarcely needed any disguise of that kind and he naturally misunderstood, “I didn’t know it involved looking like a pirate,” he said. “Should I wear a cutlass or a dress sword with it?”

 Napoleon gave up, never quite sure whether Illya was pulling his leg.

“Never mind. Forget it. Let’s go. You can hide behind me.”

Illya smiled. That suited him fine – he didn’t even want to attend. That’s why he had never needed a tux in London where he doubted whether anyone even knew what a tux was – people said an event was “black tie” or “white tie”, or just evening dress. They even had something called morning dress. You wore it to weddings, apparently, with a top hat – something else Illya had never worn and didn’t plan to.

<><><> 

It was a big party. Illya avoided the drinks but approved of the constant circulation of trays of snacks – the inevitable cheese puffs, as well as more exotic delicacies. When Napoleon had said he should hide behind him, he took it literally so that whenever Napoleon turned, there he was, sober, watching his back and cramping his style.

“Illya,” he said, at last, “why don’t you sit over there and watch the room. You’ll have a better view.”

Slightly surprised, Illya went to sit at a table overlooking the dance floor where, despite the inadequacies of his attire, he attracted admiring looks from several of the female guests present.

“Is this seat taken?” said a voice. He looked up at the beautiful woman bending over him, found her remarkable corsage at eye level, and blushed crimson.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she said and, sitting down, summoned a waiter to bring a her a drink. She turned to Illya, whose face had cooled a little. “What’s a cute guy like you doing in a place like this?” she said.

Feeling the heat in his face again, Illya flicked a glance at her and said, “The same as you, I expect.”

“Oh, darling, I doubt it.”

A little miffed at her tone, Illya said, “So, what is a … someone like you, doing here?”

“Looking for a good time, darling. I saw you with my friend Napoleon. Do you know him well?”

“I know him.”

“Do you think he’d be jealous if you danced with me?”

“I have no idea. Why should he be?”

“Well, let’s try. You _do_ dance, I hope.”

As he led her down to the dance floor, he looked around for his partner who was nowhere in sight. How was he supposed to watch his back if he wandered off? Or had something happened to him while he’d been distracted by this siren?

She saw him looking a little concerned and said, “Don’t worry about Napoleon, I saw him going out onto the balcony with a girl. Dance with me – he’ll be back.” She drew him close and swept him into the dance.

As they approached the windows that led onto the balcony, she laid her cheek to his and turned to kiss his neck just as Napoleon and a pretty girl came through the open doors. Napoleon let go of the girl’s hand and leaned over the rail, grinning. “Angelique, put him down. He’s far more dangerous than he looks,” he said.

Illya was released as she blew Napoleon a kiss and replied, “So am I, darling. Why don’t you come and dance with me instead?”

Illya, to his relief, was abandoned forthwith as Napoleon stepped down to take his place. He looked up at the angry girl Napoleon had been flirting with. “May I have the honour…?” he said and held out his hand. She turned furiously and, seeing his shy smile, softened a little and stepped down to the dance floor.

“You may,” she said and took his hand. “Are you really dangerous?”

“I’m a trained killer,” he replied.

“How funny, that’s what Napoleon said, too.”

“He copies me a lot. Why don’t we sit this one out – or do you want to dance?”

“No, I don’t. We can watch your friend and that … woman, dancing.”

“Yes, though I’d rather look at you.”

<><><> 

Napoleon was distinctly surprised to observe that he had been completely usurped. Illya and he’d-forgotten-her-name had their heads together already. Illya was holding her hand. Fast worker. He’d no idea.

And then suddenly the room erupted.

Illya snatched a kiss and said, “Sorry, must go. Wait for me – I’ll be back,” and, drawing his gun, jumped down to join his partner.

<><> 

Now even more untidy, Illya returned to look for the girl he had left so abruptly and found her hiding behind one of the columns. “You said you were a trained killer. I didn’t realise you meant it,” she said shakily.

“I’m very truthful,” he said. “And I told you I’d be back. So, shall we go somewhere safer and more private?”

“Yes, let’s do that,” she said and once more took the hand he held out.

<><><><><>


End file.
